


Notre Dame Des Fleurs – and her hypnotic gaze

by BloodyIria



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Doctor Strange (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 17:12:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14698698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyIria/pseuds/BloodyIria
Summary: [Hanahaki Disease]Tony Stark did not exactly know when it all started.Maybe, something sprang the moment he saw Stephen again and alive by his side in the chaos of the battlefield, or maybe even before, the second he believed that it had been indeed the Sorcerer who slapped his ass, back then in the Sanctum.It was also possible that the thing for Strange happened much later, the day Tony finally decided to go and meet him.





	Notre Dame Des Fleurs – and her hypnotic gaze

**Notre Dame Des Fleurs – and her hypnotic gaze**

 

 _“It seemed to last for hours_  
_It seemed to last for days_  
_This lady of the flowers_  
_And her hypnotic gaze”_.  
  
[Lady Of The Flower – Placebo]

 

Tony Stark did not exactly know _when_ it all started.  
Maybe, something sprang the moment he saw Stephen again and alive by his side in the chaos of the battlefield, or maybe even before, the second he believed that it had been indeed the Sorcerer who slapped his ass, back then in the Sanctum.  
It was also possible that the _thing_ for Strange happened much later, the day Tony finally decided to go and meet him. At the beginning, he had just intended to thank the Sorcerer and then to turn around and leave; so, when he caught sight of the other in the middle of the reading, with his focused sky blue eyes and his sharp silhouette so beautiful against the sunlight from a window, he was simply left speechless and way too defenseless.  
The first real symptoms, however, started one day, several months after Pepper had left him – who could blame her? – and a friendship made of little favors and pleasant conversations had already bloomed between them.  
The little tingle in his throat became a part of his flat routine: it was with him most of the time, scratching and making him cough more than enough. At first, Tony thought he could get used to it, erasing that inconvenience just by storing it in a dusty corner of his mind, but the longer he ignored the problem, the sorer his lungs were; and then he simply accepted to live with that grasp around the neck.  
_It stung_.  
Sometimes it felt like growing vines were tearing him apart from the inside, but Tony, stubbornly, forced himself to swallow his saliva and a pastry lump that, lately, he could taste on the tip of his tongue along with the blood.

Anyway, Stark at least realized _how_ that thing started.  
Strange truly was a fascinating man: he had a sharp mind, he kept up the pace of Tony's jokes and he rarely smiled – and yet, when it happened, all his features changed, and Stark even managed to glimpse a vivid spark from the deep of his eyes.  
Pragmatic and analytical, the Doctor was a trump card to be used at the most appropriate time – a temptation that Tony had to banish from his heart, keeping it at a safe distance.  
_It could never have worked, anyway.  
_ So, Tony decided to see the other as little as possible, only if absolutely necessary, and to leave at least few feet between them in the case they would have ended up being in the same room.

As a consequence, when one morning he found the other man floating in his kitchen, holding a steaming black mug, Tony had to use all his self control not to scream.  
_"What the hell."_  
Stephen did not answer back.  
He was perfectly comfortable and absorbed in a voracious study, while reading a levitating book.  
"Good morning, Tony. Tea?"  
_Stark had not got any tea._  
_He never had._  
_He_ hated _tea._  
"Good morning."  
Pause.  
A breath.  
He cleared his throat.  
"What the _fuck_ are you doing here?"  
Stephen closed the tome still in midair, making it disappear in a portal, and then he focused his steel blue eyes on Tony.  
"My apologies, but if it wasn't a real emergency, I wouldn't have disturbed you. However, you'll notice I didn't pick the lock."  
"That's even worse. _Fucking portals_."  
Tony headed towards the fridge. He needed water, a lot of fresh water, because a fire had just exploded in his throat.  
"What if I was naked, _Doc_?"  
"Ah, tell me _more_."  
"Funny, a truly wiseass. But that's not the point."  
" _Please_ , it was a _good_ point."  
"Didn't Hogwarts teach you anything about privacy?"  
There was silence.  
Strange stared at him with the tiniest hint of a smile and Tony deeply hated the Sorcerer – actually, Stark found all sorts of excuses for not meeting his gaze, like a dirty plate or an empty pizza box that he had not thrown away yet.  
_Pathetic_.  
He ignored the sharp pain in the chest that, for an instant, took his breath away, swallowing a coughing fit and a knot of bitter bile.  
"Anyway."  
Stark turned around to face the Sorcerer who had just put his cup down and now was waiting for him.  
Tony could not put up with the other's concern as well. Strange respected the mechanic's terms; and, in fact, keeping his eyes on him, Stephen understood his need of time in order to process every little news.  
_Stark hated him – no, not at all._  
"What's the emergency?"

 _So, to recap._  
Satana, the Devil's daughter, had taken a powerful relics from Strange, and the Sorcerer was kind of cagey about the sequence of the events. Sure, Stephen had mentioned the Dimension of Dreams and the fact that his oneiric ego had been blindsided because of the vulnerable moment, but then he smoothly moved forward to describe the consequences that could have inflicted their reality, if the power of the stolen Crown of Thorns had been released.  
As a result, knowing that Satana wanted Tony Stark to take part in her little project for a perfect business of damnation, Strange had asked him that little favor.  
_She wants you as a star attraction._  
_Be a decoy._  
_A bait._  
_I have to retrieve that relics, Tony, before Satana uses its power to create hell on Earth.  
_ It was then that Stark wondered whether he should have started to _repent_ of being permanently in debt with Stephen.

("Hey, Doc... that Crown. Is it the same one that belonged to... _Him_?"  
"Would it make any difference if you knew?  
"... No, not all.")

So, here he was, the _Invincible_ Iron Man, as he dove into the abyss with Strange – Strange that had no clue he was his own little torment, the reason why those thorns were softly piercing his lungs.

That day Stark realized he had _impressive_ repression skills.  
He stayed by Strange's side and not for a second he gave up to the pain that, apparently, was growing in his chest, nourished by the Sorcerer's presence – _even if Tony wished he could cough and cough and cough until his heart would split open._

 

("Be careful with those flames, Stark! They are _alive_!"

He managed to avoid the fire by the skin of his teeth, since it already started to consume the armor.

"Take my hand!"

Tony grabbed nothing but air.

"I got his jaws, now shoot!"

Last time he had watched Harry Potter, he remembered _Fluffy_ being... _cuter_. No red eyes or acid drool involved.

_"Take my hand!"_

Tony could only grab one of the Sorcerer's yellow gloves, noticing the way the Doctor’s eyes were filling up with fear, when he started to fall.

" _Danse Macabre_ is a dreadful resurrection spell. If we can't get the Crown back, then it's possible that we will have to face a zombies' parade _soon_."

Stark tried not to think about _My Chemical Romance_. What year was _Welcome to the Black Parade_? 2006?

"Don't worry about me and save the relics!

 _Hell no, Doc Ass._  
_I'm taking you back with me.  
_ _I won't let you disappear again, I won't leave you here._

 _“TONY! Take my hand... NOW!”_ )

When the both of them tumbled to the Sanctum's hall, Tony did not let go of Strange's hand – the Sorcerer was shivering and he was as cold as ice.  
In Tony's mind there was, instead, a maelstrom of images and horrid memories, whirling so fast and so wildly that they were hurting him again, before disappearing in a shapeless mess of colors and sensations, leaving him trapped in a sick feeling.  
He started coughing, struggling to breathe.   
“Strange… _Stephen_.  
There was blood, bright ruby drops on the floor and on the Doctor's robe.  
_God._  
_God, Strange was hurt and he would have never forgiven himself._  
"Tony! Look at me!"  
Stark could not really focus on the Sorcerer's face or on his cerulean eyes, so deep and bright – _a bottomless ocean where he would gladly drown_.  
"... Strange... are you... all... right?"  
Tony put his hands on his neck. If he only could, he would have dug his nails into the bare flesh until he would have tore his own throat, just to get rid of that burning and stabbing feeling under the skin.  
He felt petals start to come up, and then there were yellow and red stained flowers all around and blood in his mouth – _it was disgusting, beyond comprehension and it hurt like a bitch_.  
For an instant, when he managed to breathe normally again, he could finally distinguish Stephen's features, and he saw panic and alarm in his gaze – _powerlessness and weakness_.  
Tony perceived the other's hands on his face, trembling fingers caressing his skin, before he was hit by a new coughing fit.  
_Daffodils' yellow petals covered in blood._  
Then, everything went black.

Tony woke up hours or maybe even days later. Everything was rather hazy, but when he opened his eyes, the first things he noticed were Strange as he was standing at the window, contemplating the city, and then two shields of energy floating on his naked chest.  
He could still taste blood in his mouth, while that crushing pain did not stop stinging his lungs.  
“ _Hanahaki byou*_. Hanahaki disease. At its final stage. _Congratulations_ , Stark.”  
The Sorcerer's voice was monotone, almost bitter. In response, Tony dared to sit, pushing his weight on the elbows and, confused, he stared at Stephen.  
"Pardon..?"  
_Woah_ , since when his voice was so hoarse?  
Sighing, Strange moved towards the bed and, inadvertently, Tony coughed, spurting blood and flowers on his lap.  
Yellow daffodils. _Again_.  
Strange smiled sadly and, thickening the energy discs above Stark's body, he spent the next half hour to explain what the hell that disease was, even if Tony could not really get much – _only that, of course, he had it coming._  
In short: the _thing_ had a magic origin. More precisely, it was caused by a metaphysical parasite that, thirsty for unwanted feelings and doubts, planted its evil seeds in the lugs of its preys, sentencing them to die slowly, choked by the flowers of emotions always hidden.  
_A fitting end for a coward._  
"So... am I dying?"  
He was okay with it. He was ready.  
_Oh, but he would have missed those ice-blue eyes._  
"I can heal you, Tony."  
"But? There's always a _but_."  
Strange looked away.  
"You'll forget the person who... did this to you."  
_Haha, no._  
"No."  
Tony could not accept those conditions, because they would have implied revealing his feelings to Stephen and preserving none of the memories they had shared: the improvised dinners, the chess games and their first encounter _– the precious spark in those sapphire-like eyes when Stark made the other man smile._  
_It would have meant losing everything in order to continue to lead a miserable life, without that masochistic and warm hold around his heart._  
"No." Tony repeated and Stephen barely clenched his fists.  
"Then, please... allow me to assist you. To ease your pain."  
Stark glanced at him, and for a brief moment he wished he could say something bitter, but a sudden coughing stopped him just in time.  
Then, he laughed painfully, wiping out the blood from his lips with the back of his hand.  
"I couldn't ask for a better doctor, Stephen."

 

*°*

During Tony's last days, Stephen made an unfair and selfish decision.  
He needed to know.  
_Whose fault is it, Tony?_  
He hesitated for a while, his soft touch on the dying man's tensed face.  
Maybe, Strange was still immature for his role as a Sorcerer Supreme, and maybe he should have forsaken his feelings, passively accepting the plain and miserable course of life.  
_Oh, but I refuse._  
Ten thin threads of golden energy unraveled from Stephen's fingers, aimed at Tony's temples.  
The Doctor closed his eyes, expecting to see a woman in the other's mind, _maybe Pepper_ , so _strong_ , and sick and tired of Iron Man's nonsenses. Therefore, his heart stopped when, instead, he saw his own profile against the light of a window, as he was reading and then smiling at Tony, the moment he noticed the mechanic was there.  
It was a memory suspended in time, so bright that it seemed to belong to a material dimension, and Stephen had a hard time to come back to reality, almost drowning in sorrow.  
"You should have told me, you _fucking_ idiot."  
Stephen held Stark's face, resting his forehead against the other's, wishing he could scream – scream like a wounded beast, because he never had enough courage to ask (and _plea_ ) _"Stay with me"_.  
Now it was too late.  
The Sorcerer could felt the vines under Tony's chest on the tip of his fingers.  
_There was no way out: death or void._  
"I don't have any other options left." He whispered on Stark's dry lips – they tasted like blood, a sweet poison akin to a heavenly nectar  
"See you soon."

 

*°*

 

Tony woke up hours or maybe even days later. Everything was rather hazy, but when he opened his eyes, the first things he noticed were a good-looking man as he was standing at the window, contemplating the city, and then two shields of energy floating on his naked chest.  
He tasted a bitter flavor in his mouth, but aside from that little detail, he could tell he was in great shape – it had not happened for years, it was quite _surprising_.  
"Good morning, Mr. Stark."  
The stranger's voice was deep and calm. It had a comforting warmth, and it instilled a heartfelt sense of nostalgia, as a never experienced memory – _déjà-vu_.  
_Interesting choice of clothes. Was that a cloak..?_  
"Well, thank you. And... you are..?"  
"Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts and Sorcerer Supreme."  
"Does it fit on your business card?"  
"Sorcerers don't use business cards, Mr. Stark. It's inconvenient for the magical community... have you ever watched Harry Potter? Or Magic Beasts? _No-Mags_ would go crazy."  
Tony rose his arms up in a gesture of surrender to those words, and he could not hold a laughter – _after that, his chest hurt. Probably, somebody had beaten the crap out of him._  
Then, Stark met Strange's azure gaze, and he was hypnotized by the light in his eyes – there was a barely perceptible sadness, a fog of melancholy and loneliness that could not douse the vivid flames in those irises' deepest recesses.  
In that moment, Stark knew he had stepped in a dangerous territory, a mesmerizing and inebriating trap.  
"Okay, _Grindelwald_ , I give up." He replied. "But I wonder if you'd be willing to tell me why the hell I'm half naked and in another man's bed."  
Strange moved closer, and then Tony spotted a vase full of daffodils in the room: they had a sensual perfume, and Stark thought that those flowers were a perfect match for the Sorcerer's appearance.  
"It's a long story."  
"C'mon, I'm recovering, _Doc_! I've got all the time in the world!"  
He did not expect to see the Sorcerer smiling – _at least, not in that way, as he had waited an eternity for that very precise moment, in order to secure it in his heart._  
Tony felt his defenses falling apart and, if he only could, he would have pulled him closer.  
_I want to hear the reasons behind your sorrow._  
_Please, talk to me._  
_I’m here._  
In the end, Strange's voice broke the silence, and Iron Man could never forget that instant, his words and those beautiful, bright eyes.  
_Their first memory.  
_ "Yes. Yes, you have, now... _Tony_."

***End**

 

**Note**

* **Hanahaki Disease** : is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

I modified it a bit. In this case the disease is caused not only by one-sided love, but also by  _ **repressed love**_ and _ **desires**_. More over, not only the victim's romantic feelings disappear once cured, but also the memory of their beloved!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this work!
> 
> English is not my native language, so please, if you find any mistakes, let me know! DM me on my tumblr or twitter! They are open! :D 
> 
>  
> 
> http://bloodyiria.tumblr.com/
> 
> https://twitter.com/InsaneIria


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